If the Shoes Fit
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names,
characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the
author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Ebook published 2012
by Poolbeg Press Ltd.
123 Grange Hill, Baldoyle,
Dublin 13, Ireland
Email: poolbeg@poolbeg.com
© Pauline Lawless 2010
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Copyright for typesetting, layout, design, ebook
© Poolbeg Press Ltd.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-84223-569-0
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
www.poolbeg.com
Note on the Author
Pauline Lawless was born in Dublin but she has lived most of her life in the midlands. She was educated at Belgrove School, Clontarf and St Louis Convent, Balla, Co Mayo.
She started writing after she retired from business and her first novel, Because We’re Worth It, was a bestseller in 2009. It came about as a result of her experiences running Superslim Slimming Clubs in the midlands for many years. Her second novel, If the Shoes Fit, was inspired by her years working as an area manager with an international cosmetics company, also in the midlands, except that the cosmetics have been replaced by shoes!
When Pauline is not writing she likes to escape to the golf course.
Visit her website at www.paulinelawless.com
Also by Pauline Lawless
Because We’re Worth It
A Year Like No Other
Acknowledgements
A big thank you to all at Poolbeg: Kieran, Lee, David, Lisa and Sarah. A special thank you to Paula Campbell whose fund of stories about her own Leo, Lucy and Grace, gave me much inspiration for Niamh’s three lovely children.
To my editor, Gaye Shortland, the best in the business, a huge thank you. Your professionalism puts the sheen on my rough diamond.
I am eternally grateful to my family and friends whose support keeps me going.
To my daughter Ciara, with love. Thanks again for your input and proof-reading.
To my former colleagues at Avon Cosmetics, especially Mai, Maureen, Pat, Maura, Alice and Doreen, who were my inspiration for this book. I have such fond memories of the good times we shared. To my former reps Lorraine, Bernie and Deirdre – it was wonderful to see you at the launch of my first book, Because We’re Worth It.
Thanks to Jackie Quigley of Easons in Newbridge for that fantastic launch. A day I’ll never forget!
Finally, to you the readers, who made my first venture into writing such a success. I appreciate all your kind comments and hope you enjoy If The Shoes Fit even more.
To my mother,
with much love and gratitude.
Chapter 1
Amber was sitting on the balcony of her penthouse apartment in Malahide, watching the little boats bobbing about in the beautiful marina below. Her face, a golden tan and make-up free, was turned to catch the rays of the morning sun and her bare feet were curled up under her. She was wearing a comfy Juicy Couture velour leisure suit and her long blonde curls were caught up haphazardly in a ponytail. She sipped a vodka and orange as she reached for a glossy magazine and started leafing idly through it. It was then that she spotted the advertisement.
“I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed as she read it. “I don’t bloody believe it!” She smiled to herself as she realised that she sounded just like Victor Meldrew, that crazy character from the TV sit-com One Foot in the Grave. She read down through the ad again.
CALLING ALL SHOE ADDICTS!
Are shoes your passion? Are you enthusiastic and ambitious? Would you like to work for yourself? Not be tied to specific hours? Do you get on well with people? If you answered “yes” to all of the above, you may be the person we’re looking for.
IF THE SHOES FIT
(buy them in every colour!)
We are launching in Ireland soon and we require part-time area sales managers to introduce our fabulous range of designer shoes to Irish women. No age limit. No experience required. No initial cash outlay.
Applications with CV to:
If the Shoes Fit, 54, Lower Mount St., Dublin 2.
“Buy them in every colour” was Amber’s motto. How often had she bought the same shoe in two or three different colours! “Am I a shoe addict? Are they my passion? Are they what?” she exclaimed aloud. “Just come and see for yourself!”
She wasn’t joking. Amber was the proud owner of the most fantastic shoe-room in Dublin, if not Ireland. Not a closet or a couple of racks, like most women, but a customised room, especially for her shoes – and their matching bags, of course. All her girl-friends were madly envious of her collection of some two hundred pairs (give or take a few) and she did sometimes feel a bit guilty about it. But what the hell, she thought, Imelda Marcos had 1250 pairs! Everyone had a passion and shoes just happened to be hers. And she rarely paid full price for them. Most of them she’d bought in sales in New York, Paris, Rome and Madrid for a fraction of the original cost.
It had always been that way. She’d always been a sucker for shoes.
This love affair had begun when, as a three-year-old, she’d fallen in love with a tiny pair of red patent shoes. Her mother had chosen a pair of sensible brown leather Clarks but Amber wouldn’t even try them on and had thrown herself on the shop floor, refusing to get up until she could have the red patent ones. Embarrassed by this tantrum and shocked at her little girl’s determination, her mother had given in and had left the shop with her golden-haired, angelic-looking daughter clutching her shoes and smiling in triumph. Amber could still remember every detail of them. They had narrow ankle-straps with the cutest bows on the front and they were so
shiny that she could see her own face reflected in them. How she’d loved them! She’d felt like a princess every time she’d worn them.
She read the ad a third time, hardly daring to believe it. It sounds too good to be true, she thought. She got scissors and cut the page out of the magazine, then poured herself another vodka and orange. This called for a celebration! Yes, she knew it was still not quite midday and she’d already had her mid-morning drink, but this job was just perfect for her and as the song said: “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She’d always thought that was strange – saying five o’clock – as six o’clock was the boozing hour in Ireland. Mind you, we make up for that extra hour real quick, she admitted to herself with a wry smile.
She hadn’t always been a drinker. When she’d first met Dermot, her ex-husband, she’d never touched the stuff but it used to infuriate him when she’d ask for a Diet Coke at the fancy corporate dinners and receptions they attended regularly.
“For God’s sake, just try and drink a glass of wine. It won’t kill you!” he’d say in exasperation.
So, to please him, she’d tried, although she’d hated the taste of it. Eventually of course, she’d grown to like it and now she couldn’t get through the day without it. She knew she drank too much but she didn’t know how she would have survived the past twelve months, since her divorce, otherwise. Twelve months of heartache – her annus horribilis, as she called it – during which her self-esteem and confidence had sunk to an all-time low.
Reading the ad, she had her first glimmer of hope. Be positive, she told herself. I adore shoes, I’m enthusiastic, good with people and I’m willing to work hard. I’ll do anything to get back to the old me – to get back living again.
So, with a sense of purpose, she pushed away her vodka and went to the computer to print out her CV and application. She went straight to the post-box and sent it on its way, before she could change her mind.
Susie, her best friend, rang that afternoon. “I’ve something really interesting to show you,” she said, excitement in her voice. “I’ll pop in on my way home.”
She arrived beaming and brandishing a copy of It Magazine.
“This is just perfect for you. Look!” She shoved the page with the ad for If the Shoes Fit at Amber. “You adore shoes, you’re great with people and it’s only part-time. It’s made for you!”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Amber shook her head.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Susie banged the table, exasperation showing in her face. Then she saw that Amber was smiling.
“Actually, I’ve applied for it already – this afternoon!” Amber replied smugly.
“You’ve what?” Susie couldn’t believe her ears. For months now she’d been trying to get Amber interested in getting back to work, with no success. Susie had been very worried. She was aware that Amber was drinking too much and wasn’t making any effort to move on with her life. Thank God, at last she’d found something to interest her.
“I’m so happy,” said Susie, giving her dearest friend a hug. “The minute I read it I knew it was made for you. You’re an expert on shoes, as we all know!”
“I have to agree with you there,” Amber replied. “Have you time for a quick cafè latte?”
Susie looked at her watch. “Yes, if it’s real quick. I have to collect Rachel and Joshua from the crèche in ten minutes.”
They chatted enthusiastically about the ad as Susie gulped down the coffee – then she flew out the door, blowing a kiss at her friend as she did so.
Amber appreciated Susie’s concern. She knew she was worried about her drinking and it touched her. There was nobody else who gave a damn. She owed it to her friend to make an effort. Feeling bad about her behaviour and grateful for Susie’s loyalty, she decided then and there to put a stop to it. This new opportunity had given her something to aim for. She made a decision. That’s it – no more drinking on my own any more! This is my chance to get my life together again and I won’t blow it. With determination, she took the bottle of vodka and poured it down the sink. It felt good!
Niamh was waiting in the doctor’s surgery in Clondalkin with her little son, Ian, when she spotted the advertisement. She couldn’t call herself a shoe addict exactly, mainly because she couldn’t afford to buy shoes for herself very often, but she did adore them and if she had the money she had no doubt but that she would indulge herself. As a teenager, while her other friends were spending their money on cigarettes and drink, piercings, tattoos and the Lord knows what else, Niamh had spent every penny of her precious pocket money on shoes. Now twenty-three years old with three children (four, counting her husband) and a mountain of debts, there was very little chance of her buying a pair of glamorous shoes anytime soon. Intrigued, but not thinking it could have anything to do with her, she read down through the ad. She did have a passion for shoes – those she saw on other women – and yes, she was ambitious and enthusiastic and did get on very well with people. She read on. Was it possible? No age limit, no experience needed and most importantly, no money outlay. That would have been a problem. She began to feel a tremor of excitement. Was God possibly taking pity on her and bringing this opportunity her way? She desperately needed to get a job to help pay off all her debts and now that the twins had started school . . .
It says part-time, she thought, and it looks like you can choose what hours you work – this would be perfect for me.
There was no way she could afford to pay a child-minder for three kids.
She felt buoyant with hope. She despised people who tore pages out of magazines that didn’t belong to them – but she had no choice. She could never afford to buy the glossy magazine herself and she desperately needed this ad.
After the doctor had assured her that Ian was merely suffering from a cold, she rushed home to make out her application. Her hopes took a bit of a bashing when she realised that her CV was pitiful. She couldn’t very well say: “Mother of three at nineteen and excellent at the job.” She guessed that wasn’t quite what they were looking for. However, she had achieved a very good Leaving Certificate and would have gone on to University to study law if fate hadn’t intervened. Fate in the form of charming, sexy, handsome Gavin Byrne who had seduced a very naïve seventeen-year-old Niamh, which resulted in her getting pregnant. She didn’t want to go there.
Wrapping Ian up well, she collected the twins, Lily and Rose, from school. They looked so cute and tiny in their uniforms and as they hugged her, her heart swelled with love for them. Yes, she had it tough, but not for anything would she give up one minute spent with her three precious babies.
She posted her application and then they took the five-minute bus ride to her mother’s house. Normally they walked but today, what with Ian’s cold and her exciting news, she decided to splash out and take the bus.
“Come in, my darlings, and give Nana a big hug!” Her mother, as always, was delighted to see her grandchildren and wrapped her ample arms about them.
“How is your cold, pet? And what did you do at school today, girls? I’ve baked some lovely fairy cakes for you and I’ll make some of your favourite hot chocolate.”
When the three kids had babbled their news and were seated at the kitchen table happily munching, her mother turned her attention to Niamh.
“You seem in high spirits today, love. What is it? Has Gavin got a job?”
“No such luck, Mam. But maybe I have,” and with eyes glowing she handed her mother the advert.
Eileen raised her eyebrows as she read it. “No experience needed, no money outlay and you can work whatever hours you choose. This seems perfect, love. You should apply for it.”
“I already have, Mam,” Niamh replied.
“That’s great, love. You know, you’ll never get out of your mother-in-law’s house if you don’t do something about it yourself. You certainly can’t rely on Gavin to help!”
“Ah Mam, give him a break,” Niamh sighed. They’d been down this road many times before. “I don’
t want to breathe a word of it to him just yet, in case I don’t get it.”
It killed Eileen to see her bright, smart daughter tied to a waster like Gavin. She often thought that Niamh would have been better off as a single mother – as least she’d have had her own house by now and not be stuck living with that dragon of a mother-in-law. Eileen sighed. What a mistake we made! she thought. We should never have agreed to the marriage. Her dad never wanted it – I should have listened to him. Thank God he’s not alive to see how hard it is for his little girl now. It would break his heart. She sighed again.
Niamh hated having to leave her mother’s warm, homely kitchen and face back to the drab, cold house they shared with Gavin’s mother, Bridget. The cottage was tiny – certainly not big enough to accommodate three adults and three children. Bridget had kept the biggest bedroom for herself and Niamh and Gavin had to make do with the box-room and a bed that wasn’t quite a double one. The kids had no space to play with their toys and it was impossible to keep them from messing things up. On top of that, she had a job trying to keep them quiet while her mother-in-law watched the endless procession of daytime chat and game shows on television.
Her mother was right – she had to get out of there – and it would be up to her to achieve it. Thank God for Mam, she thought. What would I do without her?
Niamh had left the advert with her mother just in case Bridget should find it. She knew all hell would break loose if she did. Bridget did not approve of working mothers and Gavin sided with her on this. In fact, he sided with his mother’s views on practically everything.
Niamh’s older sister, Val, dropped in to her mother’s later that evening.